


Age Before Beauty

by EllieSaxon



Series: Breaking the Grip [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSaxon/pseuds/EllieSaxon
Summary: The big question has already been asked, now Sherlock has just one more.(This can be a stand-alone)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies!
> 
> So this story was inspired by a line in the epilogue of 'Breaking The Grip', and is set a few years down the road (a second epilogue if you will), but it really is a stand-alone story. You don't need to read 'BTG' to understand what's going on here (though if you want to, please do!!!) There are some slight references to 'BTG', so what you need to know is John and Sherlock met at uni when they were 20 and 18 respectively, circumstances led to them getting to know each other, becoming friends, and falling in love. 
> 
> This story is not beta'd or brit-picked, so apologies for any typos or Americanisms. Now I hope you enjoy this 2.5k long fluff fest of two idiots being in love with each other!
> 
> Ellie/Jens

Seven twenty-eight.

Alright, it was seven twenty-eight and John’s shift at the hospital ended at seven o’clock. If he took a shower – if he took a shower? Of course John was going to take a shower – and if traffic patterns held steady, then John would be arriving home in exactly thirteen minutes. Just thirteen minutes.

Sherlock could not stop pacing, he shouldn’t be so nervous, he had no reason to be so nervous, he had no reason to be nervous at all. The most important question had already been asked and answered – their left hands both bore the thin metal tokens to prove it – and by comparison, this was nothing. He went over his argument once more in his head. It was logical, it made sense, John would surely see that and agree. Sherlock was just getting himself worked up over nothing; he couldn’t let doubt creep in. He was fine. It was fine. It was going to be fine. John would be home in thirteen minutes and then everything would be fine.

It turned out thirteen minutes was an eternity. By the time Sherlock heard John on the stairs, he was nearly out of his mind.

 

~

 

_“Sherlock… Sherlock… Sherlock Holmes… I’m running off to Australia with Mycroft to start a cattle ranch.”_

“What!?” Sherlock’s head snapped up to look over at John who was sitting on the couch. Wait, when had John sat down? When had either of them sat down? Wasn’t he been standing a moment ago? Yes, he had just been standing in the middle of the sitting room when John came in and gave him the first two minutes kiss; John had said something about leftovers, and then that thing about Mrs. Hudson and her sister, and then…

“Don’t… Please don’t leave me for Mycroft.”

“Well that got through to you, Love. I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes.” John laughed, shaking his head. “And I’d no sooner leave you than start drowning puppies.”

“Don’t do that either.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Sherlock gave himself a shake to clear his thoughts and get a handle on his nerves. It didn’t help. God, he hadn’t been this scattered in years. “Good.” He said clearing his throat for good measure. “So, you were trying to get my attention. What, um, what do you need?”

“I was asking if we have all the stuff we need for tomorrow, but never mind that now. You’re acting off, is something wrong?” John asked, his brow furrowing.

No, no, not good. He couldn’t have John worried. “Something wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?” Sherlock said hastily, jumping to his feet. He had to make sure John was happy; if he was going to get John to agree to this, he had to keep him in a good mood. John was always more accommodating and willing to listen when he was in a good mood. “Tea! Would you like some tea? I’ll make us some tea.”

“I’ve already had a cup.” John said, nodding towards the empty mug on the coffee table. “Sherlock, Love, you need to calm down. What is going on?”

“I told you, nothing.” Maybe a healthy dose of dopamine and oxytocin would be just the trick to get John in an agreeable mood. “Let’s have sex!” Sherlock scrambled onto John’s lap to straddle his waist, and began unbuttoning John’s shirt. Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Whoa, whoa, Sherlock, slow down!” John yelped, batting Sherlock’s hands away. “Sherlock, stop!”

“What? No, why? Don’t you want to have sex with me?” John hardly ever stopped him before. He could count on his fingers the number of times John turned him down for sex; and all those times involved illness, injury, extreme sleep deprivation, or a high probability of them being arrested for public indecency.

“It’s not that, you know how much I love having sex with you. Being with you, well it’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” John said, cupping Sherlock’s cheek, “is that there’s definitely something on your mind, and it’s not making me tea, or us making love. Come on Bumblebee, tell me what’s going on up there?” he asked, brushing the curls away from Sherlock’s temple.

Sherlock looked away, this was not going as he had planned. “It’s really nothing. It’s just… it’s just a case I’m stuck on.” He lied.

“Sherlock, in all the years I’ve known you, I have never seen you act like this just because a case has you stumped. Please tell me the real reason.” John’s brow was furrowed in genuine concern, John was always concerned about him. John was carding his fingers through his hair, and Oh god, it felt so good. John was so good to him, always caring for him, always looking out for him, always putting him first. John was too good to him. What had he ever done to deserve John?

“Did you break something? Set something on fire?” John continued. “Are you worried I’ll be upset, because Love, whatever it is, it’s alright. I promise I won’t be mad. There’s nothing you could possibly do to warrant you being so worried.”

“It’s not –”

“Well what is it? You’re really worrying me, Love.”

No, no, no. This was going all wrong. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. Oh God, he was messing everything up. No, no, no…

“Iwannahyphenate!”

“You… You what?” John frowned, he was not making this easy.

“I,” Sherlock took a deep breath, but kept his head down. He could do this, “I want to hyphenate.”

“Hyphenate? You mean our –”

“Yes, I want to hyphenate our names. When we go to the clerk’s office tomorrow to give our notice, I want – I want to pick up change of name forms.”

“For both of us?” John asked quietly.

“Pref – preferably yes.” Sherlock nodded, still unable to look up, afraid of what John’s face might tell him. But still he powered through, he had practiced it enough, he had to get it out. “I know it’s silly and antiquated, that having the same name won’t make us any more together, or any more married, or that we love each other any more than we do now, but I want – I want to share a name. I want there to be no doubt when we give our names that we are each other’s; that you are my husband, and I am yours. Now I fully understand if you do not wish to change yours as you are already established as Dr. Watson, but if you’ll allow me, I’d still like to incorporate Watson into my own surname.”

Sherlock felt John’s hand on his chin lifting his head to look up. John was… John was smiling. It wasn’t his amused smile, or his placating smile, or his accommodating, humoring smile. John was smiling his soft, overjoyed, loving, ‘for Sherlock only’ smile.

“Oh Bumble, that’s not silly at all. That may be one of the single most romantic things I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” John grinned, and using the hand still on Sherlock’s chin, pulled him into a soft, gentle kiss, “and nothing would make me happier than to share the same hyphenated last name with you.”

“Really? You’ll take my name, and I can take yours?”

“Absolutely. I can’t believe that’s what had you so worked up.” John chuckled, letting his arm fall to join the other at Sherlock’s waist.

“I did just ask you to change your name, part of your identity. Not to mention now you have to go through the hassle of getting everything converted.” He really was asking a lot, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should have just asked if John was alright with him taking on the Watson name, and left it at that. But he wanted it so much, and now…

“People do it all the time, it’s no big deal. Besides,” John said, tightening his arms around Sherlock’s torso, “we’re about to be married, and I think I rather like the idea of officially incorporating my future husband – the most important person in my life, the love of my life – into my identity.”

“I do – I do too.” Sherlock blushed, dripping his head to capture John’s lips in a chaste kiss. In just over a month he was marrying John Watson, he was going to be part of John’s identity, John was going to be part of his.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, there’s just the small matter of what our new name will be. Holmes-Watson, or Watson-Holmes. I’m assuming you want us both to have the same configuration, and not just tack on each other’s name onto our own.”

“No, same name, same configuration. But I don’t care about the order. It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Ok,” John hummed, his face scrunched up in concentration. It was all an act of course, Sherlock knew John’s actual thinking face. “well ‘Holmes-Watson’ has the alphabetical thing going for it, but…”

“But?”

“But ‘Watson-Holmes’ sort of flows better. Two syllable name followed by a single one.”

“Sound reasoning.” Sherlock laughed, he loved it that John tried to make one of his decisions sound like it was based on any sort of logical thought process, when really it just ‘felt’ right, sounded right. It did sound right though, their names joined together, it sounded perfect. “So we’re to be Sherlock and John Watson-Holmes?”

“I like it. Plus you know what they say,” John murmured, pulling Sherlock even closer and running his lips along Sherlock’s neck, sucking on his pulse point, “‘age before beauty.’”

Sherlock bit back a moan. Jesus Christ that felt amazing. “Age before beauty?” He tried to frown, but John’s lips were making it very difficult think of anything other than getting John’s lips on other parts of him, and getting his lips on John. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well I’m older,” John smirked, nipping at Sherlock’s jaw before moving to drop kiss after kiss to his lips, “and you – my love – my lovely – my perfect – my silly Bumble – are without a doubt – an absolute – beauty.”

Sherlock felt the heat rush to his face, and he knew he was blushing furiously. Even after all their years together, John could still make him feel like that self-conscious eighteen year old outcast talking to the school’s handsome football star. Just the fact that Sherlock was even capable of blushing at the moment was a pretty impressive feat, seeing as the majority of his blood was rushing southwards to a completely different part of his body.

“John,” he mumbled, half out of embarrassment, half out of sheer arousal. “I’m hardly beautiful.”

“Oh but you are. Your heart, your mind, your eyes,” John said, touching and kissing Sherlock as he spoke. “Your nose” he kissed the tip of his nose. “Your cheeks,” he kissed his cheek. “And your lips.” He said, finally kissing Sherlock’s lips again. “Are so beautiful. You are so, so beautiful, and you are all mine.”

“Completely, one hundred percent yours.” Sherlock whispered against John’s lips, his eyes still closed. He was John’s, he was completely John’s. They didn’t need any paper or name change to prove that they belonged to each other, but soon – in just over a month – soon they would have those too. Soon they’d have it all. “I love you, John. You know that, right? I love you so much.”

“Of course I do. I love you too, Sherlock, one hundred percent.” John breathed, kissing Sherlock deeply, slowly, so, very, very slowly.

Sherlock could spend the rest of his life kissing John like this, feeling every ounce of the love they shared in the brush of their lips. He grinned; he was going to get to spend the rest of his life kissing John, holding John, having John, loving John.

“I love you, you brilliant, gorgeous, ridiculous man.” John hummed when the kiss finally broke.

“I’m only ridiculous because you made me ridiculous.”

“I did, and I’m proud of it!” John grinned, nuzzling Sherlock’s neck. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I remember you saying something earlier about us having sex. Is that offer still on the table?”

“That particular offer is always on the table… and on the floor, and the couch, and our bed,” Sherlock purred, rolling his hips, realizing only then just how _affected_ both he and John were getting by the kisses. And feeling giddy, high on his want, need, and love for John, high on John’s want, need and love for him, Sherlock pushed himself harder into John’s embrace. “Now for the love of god, please take me to bed, Dr. Watson.”

“Nuh-uh-uh, it’s Dr. Watson-Holmes from now on… Mr. Watson-Holmes.”

“John,” Sherlock flushed – once again from both arousal and embarrassment – John really shouldn’t be able to make him blush like this anymore, “we haven’t changed our names yet, we haven’t even started the application process.”

“Well we will soon enough, so might as well start getting used to it.”

“You do make an excellent point.”

“It’s been known to happen every once in a while,” John smirked, nipping at Sherlock’s ear. “Now you gorgeous creature, are you going to get up and get in that bedroom, or am I going to have to carry you in there myself?”

Sherlock didn’t even bother answering; he just scrambled off John’s lap, pulling him up along with him, kissing him thoroughly as they stumbled through the kitchen and down the hallway. They had each other undressed before they’d even made it over the threshold of their bedroom.

 

~

 

It wasn’t until late the next morning when a thoroughly sated Sherlock was preparing himself and John tea and some brunch in bed, that he noticed he phone on the coffee table, the light blinking to indicate there was a text waiting.

 

 _[21:02]   It may have taken seven years, but I see the good Dr. Watson is to finally carry the Holmes surname; or at least a variant there of – MH_  

 

Intrusive prick; he was going to have to do another sweep of the flat for audio bugs. Sherlock was sure the earful Mycroft was sure to have gotten the week of his and John’s engagement would have been enough to make him never want to listen in on the goings on of his little brother’s flat ever again. Apparently not.

Sherlock was just about to craft a strongly worded ‘fuck off’ text, when he felt a familiar pair of strong arms wrap around his waist.

“What’s taking so long?” John murmured, kissing the nape of Sherlock’s neck. Seven years, and John’s kisses still sent shivers down his spine. “We have another four hours until our appointment at the clerk’s office, and I think I’d like to spend as much of that time as possible back in bed with my husband-to-be.”

Mycroft waited all night for a response, what were a couple more hours? Dropping his phone back on the table, Sherlock allowed John to guide him back to the comfortable confines of their bedroom, stopping only briefly to grab their tea and the tray of toast, eggs, and bacon. They had quite a bit of time to fill, and it certainly wouldn’t do for them to let their energy levels drop. Sherlock grinned as he left the bedroom door open;  perhaps now was the perfect opportunity to teach his meddlesome brother a lesson about the dangers of eavesdropping.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love nothing more than to hear what you lovely people think, so if you're so inclined please leave me some comments and/or corrections (seriously, I really appreciate the chance to fix mistakes).
> 
> Thank you, thank you!


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